They buried Thorne beneath the weeping tree beside the cottage. The sky wept with them. Wind howled softly through the mountain pines, as if the very earth mourned his passing.
Rael stood in silence, the frost clinging to his hair, his fingers curled around the hilt of the sword Thorne had gifted him. Martha placed a single rune-stone on the grave — its carvings glowing faintly with ethereal light.
She knelt beside the mound of stones. "You stubborn, noble fool," she whispered. Her voice cracked as the words slipped into the cold air.
Turning to Rael, she spoke again, her voice warmer than it had ever been. "Stay with me. Just for a while. I've lost too many people."
Rael looked away, conflicted. But when he met her eyes—eyes not of a powerful mage, but of a grieving mother—he relented. "Just for a while."
They lived quietly for a year. Martha's stern care softened into gentleness. She treated Rael like a son — and he, in time, came to think of her as a second mother.
On her final day, beneath the same tree, she handed him a sealed scroll.
"Find Kaelen's friend," she whispered, voice faint. "He'll guide you next."
Her final breath was like a fading candle — soft, silent, and full of love.